Savior of the Small
by Raykushi
Summary: Two-parter. Mikey finds an adorable distraction when the gang reaches the old farm house. Takes place at the start of Season 3.


Title: Savior of the Small (Part 1/2)

Author: Raykushi

Disclaimer: Rights to TMNT belong to Nickelodeon and others. This is a fan piece only and no monetary gain comes from its publication.

Incarnation: 2012 TV show

Summary: Mikey finds an adorable distraction when the gang reaches the old farm house. Takes place at the start of Season 3.

Warnings/Ratings: None/G

Word Count: 3,167

**Savior of the Small**

The van slowed to a stop in front of the farm house with the sun hanging high in the sky. They had left New York at night, running with the invasion hot on their heels until the city limits, but exhaustion had caught up miles later, once the adrenaline of battle had filtered away. April was fighting to keep her eyes open to give directions when Casey eventually made the decision and pulled over. They all dozed on and off fitfully, jumping at any stray sound outside the vehicle, for a few hours before getting back on the road.

The first priority when they arrived in North Hampton was helping Leonardo. They carried him upstairs to the bathroom and turned on the tub faucets, the ancient pipes gurgling and protesting. At first what came out was colored dark with rust but after the first few moments clear, clean water flowed into the tub.

When that was taken care of, the second priority—for Mikey—was exploring.

The farm house was old and huge. Dust and cobwebs were everywhere, though April said she had an extended relative that looked in on the place once a year and did some general upkeep.

The building was laid out with a large kitchen and living room downstairs, both branching off from a central foyer with a grimy chandelier hanging overhead. The staircase in the foyer led to the second floor, where there was a bathroom and many tempting closed doors (though the first two only opened into empty rooms full of dust that made Mikey sneeze). For a moment he wondered if there was an attic—then he wondered if the attic was haunted by an evil ghosts—then he noticed through the dirty window that the sun was shining on the lawn and he promptly forgot about anything else. The youngest turtle ran down the stairs to poke his head out the front door.

Standing on the porch, Mikey looked out across the big open lawn. The grass was bright green and the sky was an extreme blue; he wasn't used to seeing without a city haze over everything. It felt like he'd been walking around with shades on that he'd just taken off for the first time.

The sunlight and the sounds of birds singing were exciting. Mikey vaulted off the porch and landed on soft grass, determined to see what there was to see around the house. But then he hesitated.

There was something off about this location. He couldn't quite decide what it was. Maybe just that they were so far from home, without Splinter, without Leo. With aliens probably crashing in their lair at that very moment. Not cool.

But maybe it was the wide open front lawn, too. In New York you were never more than a quick dash away from cover. Out here they would be awfully exposed when they weren't indoors. The further Michelangelo got from the front door, the less safe he felt. Instead of running out across the front lawn, the turtle slid to the right, making his way around the corner of the house so he could investigate what was behind it, but keeping the house at his back.

The sound of rattling glass behind him suddenly made him yelp and spin around, only to find April leaning out a newly opened window. She tipped her head. "Uh, Mikey, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Lookit how big and open this is!" he said, throwing his arms open wide. Then he quickly slid back to the shadow under the window. "You're sure there's no one around to see, right?"

April shook her head. "Nearest neighbor is four miles away, and nobody comes through the woods. Dad put up 'No Trespassing' signs years ago so we wouldn't have people coming around behind the house during hunting season. You're safe. We're _all_ safe." The last words came out quietly but firmly, as if she were trying to convince herself.

Mikey had stopped listening halfway through and was now scampering across the back lawn, marveling at the feeling of the grass under his feet. "Whoa, a barn!" he announced to no one, shooting off in that direction.

It had been deep red at one point. Now the paint was faded and peeling, half of the old structure reduced to the natural color of the wood underneath. But it seemed whole and sound, and he was convinced there must be amazing treasures inside, hidden away for years and just waiting to be found.

Mikey shoved on the two tall doors at the front of the barn. At first they didn't budge, until he set his shoulder against the splintering wood and ground his heels into the dirt. With a groan the doors parted and a cloud of dust billowed out into the sunny air.

Within was a cave of blackness. Undaunted, Michelangelo slipped between the parted doors and into the cool, shaded space.

The darkness lightened as he inched further inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom. Thin sunbeams, dust motes dancing in them, leaked in from spots where shingles were missing in the roof.

Mikey's shoulders slumped when a pile of gold or some other ancient prize wasn't immediately visible inside. Mostly he found neat squares stacked in rows all around the perimeter of the single big room, some reaching up to the ceiling. He slipped over to investigate and his nose wrinkled. It was old, musty smelling hay. Maybe decomposing. Did hay decompose?

He had a sinking feeling that his brothers and friends were going to say that this place had to be completely cleaned out. It was looking less like a treasure trove and more like a lot of work.

But there was still a chance that something totally awesome was hidden here. Other than the hay bales, there were piles of random odds and ends heaped here and there. Mikey dove into one, tossing aside rusted auto parts, buckets of loose screws and nails, flashlights without batteries, broken brooms and other cleaning supplies. It all made a loud racket of falling junk.

He paused to wipe sweat from his forehead, and in the sudden silence he heard a clatter from across the barn. Instantly the turtle whirled around and stared into the gloom. Nothing moved in the shadows.

"Hello?" Michelangelo hedged, wondering if there was a bum who was hiding out in the abandoned barn. He pulled out his 'chuks in case it was a dangerous bum.

"Helloooo?" Mikey started to inch across the room, toward the origin of the sound. He heard nothing in the barn. "Just to warn you, dude, I am super armed and dangerous!" he called out.

He decided the sound must have come from the waist-high stacks of hay directly in front of him, pushed up against the wall, close to the doors. Mikey's hands clenched on his nunchuks as he crouched and sprang, landing on top of the hay bales. The shifting hay unbalanced him for a moment, but he quickly steadied himself as he looked down.

And gasped happily. "Oh!"

. ~ . ~ .

The exuberant turtle burst through the front door of the farm house laden with two armfuls. "Look what I found!" he announced loudly.

There was no one in sight, but to the left was the living room, and Mikey found Donnie and Casey with heads bent over an old TV in a wooden case. The human looked up as Mikey jumped into the room. He eyed the short turtle and four little balls of fluff—two dark gray and two orange striped—that he was holding. "Where'd you find those?" he asked, prompting Donnie to look up as well.

"In the barn!" Mikey said excitedly. "They're barn cats! Kittens! Awww, they're so cute! Look how cute you are! You are just adorable!" he told the little charcoal kitten who was chewing on his thumb.

Casey shook his head, amused.

"What's all the racket?" Raph appeared at the top of the stairs on the second floor landing and started down.

Mikey spun around as Raph descended down to the foyer. "Raph! Kittens!"

"What? Mikey, where did you get those?"

"In the barn out back!" Mikey did some quick kitten juggling as he explained his find. The young creatures were not inclined to sit still, instead trying to crawl over his arms and each other, and Mikey had to constantly readjust his hold. One of the scrappy orange tabbies was reaching out tiny paws to swipe at Raph. "Aw, he likes you!"

Michelangelo leaned forward on one foot and lifted his arm theatrically to drop the orange kitten onto Raph's shoulder. Raphael's face twisted and he jerked back out of Mikey's reach when he saw what his younger brother was trying to do. The sudden move caused Mikey to tip further forward, off balance, with the little creature wriggling out of his hand. "Whooaa!"

Raph's hand shot out quick and steady, scooping the kitten out of Mikey's hand before it could fall. He tucked it in the crook of his elbow. "Mikey, watch it, would you?" he grumbled.

Mikey grinned and nodded, carrying the remaining three kittens into the living room. "They haven't made a single sound since I found them!" he said. "They're like teeny tiny kitty ninjas! Ice Cream Kitty's gonna be so excited to meet them." The remaining orange kitten, paler with more vibrant stripes, was peering down at the floor with cloudy blue eyes from its lofty height in Mikey's palm. The two grays tried climbing over one another for more comfortable positions once again. Raph trailed behind, carrying the last one.

Donnie's attention was back on the television, trying to decipher the ancient innards. "If you touch them, the mother will reject them when she returns," he announced without thinking.

Michelangelo froze. His head snapped toward his brother's direction, blue eyes wide as saucers. "What?" he squeaked.

"Because they now have a strange scent," Donatello explained, still not looking away from the television and therefore missing the expression of pure horror passing over Michelangelo's face.

The silence in the room finally sank into the intelligent turtle's brain and he looked up to find Raphael and Casey both glaring heavily at him. He squared his shoulders defensively. "What? It's true."

"I made them orphans?" Mikey whispered, looking down at the kittens in horror. "Oh no! What have I done!?"

A hand on his shoulder steered him back toward the front door before more panic could set in. "Come on, show me where you found them, little brother. We'll put them back and make sure the mom comes back and gets them."

A tiny whimper escaped the shorter turtle as he followed Raphael. "Y-you'll wait with me? What about Leo?"

"April's watching him, it's fine. Come on." They left the house and Raph let the front door slam behind him. Donatello winced.

Left alone in the living room, Casey threw Don a disgusted look. "You're a jerk."

. ~ . ~ .

Mikey quickly led the way, showing Raph the barn he had discovered, filled with hay and all manner of old junk, even a rusty truck way in the back.

"They were right here. You really think their mom will come back for them?"

"Of course she will." Raph looked around at all the clutter, and the bales of musty-smelling hay. "Here." He grabbed an old rag that had been thrown on top of one of the stacks. "This smells like the barn." He rubbed the orange tabby with the rag and dropped it into the hay where Mikey said he had found them. The little kitten looked bewildered to have gone on such an adventure and then ended up right back at home. It touched its pink nose to the hay and flopped down in the center of the little nest, tuckered out all at once.

Mikey's eyes glowed. "You're a genius, bro."

Raph grinned. "I know." He took the other three kittens from his brother one at a time and returned them to the hay, rubbing them with the old rag. The four little creatures immediately crawled into a pile together. One of they tabbies tried to instigate playtime by chewing the other's ear, but its sibling was exhausted and didn't respond. One by one they all stopped moving, curled up and closed their eyes, and slept.

"Awwwww." Mikey stood there and cooed at them until Raphael grabbed him and dragged him behind a nearby stack of tractor parts.

"Now you gotta sit here and be quiet," the older turtle ordered gruffly. "Because if we make any noise, we're going to chase the mom right out of here when she gets back."

Michelangelo nodded firmly, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration. "Right. Total ninja mode. Got it." He crouched next to Raph and together the two turtles peered around the pile of old parts, staking out the spot where the four kittens slept across the room.

Three minutes passed.

Mikey was able to consider a surprising amount in three whole minutes. He thought about kittens and ice cream and if ice cream kitties could raise regular kittens made out of things other than ice cream, and just how much work it was going to take to clean the barn and what he could possibly invent to get out of it, and if evil squirrels from New York could track them all the way to North Hampton, and if he should tell Raph there was a bug with a gazillion legs crawling over the busted tractor motor on top of the pile they were hiding behind, and man those kittens were so quiet could they possibly still be asleep—!?

Mikey stood up for the third time in as many minutes, peering over the junk to the stack of old hay across from them. Raph tugged his elbow pad. "Sit down," he whispered.

"Do you think they're okay?" Mikey whispered back. "They're too quiet! Cats in New York aren't quiet." Cats in New York meowed at the turtles as they slipped down back alleys in the night, or gave a warning hiss if they thought they were too close. (Unlike most humans, who never even noticed they were passing by.)

"They're sleeping. And these aren't New York cats," Raph retorted. "Probably their mom taught them to not make noise until she gets back, so something from the woods doesn't find them alone in here and eat them."

Mikey's eyes widened. He stood up for a fourth time to take a quick peek, just to make sure the kittens were okay. But he stopped even before Raph made a grab for him. He suddenly heard a voice in his head. A very familiar voice. _"Stay here, all of you, and make no sound until I am back. I will return to you very shortly. I promise."_

Mikey sank back down on his heels, looking across the barn but not seeing it. Remembering a voice from a very long time ago, when they had all been very small. He remembered the words, but not why they had been said.

Raph would remember.

"So, uh, Master Splinter likes kittens!" Mikey attempted a segue. It was smooth.

"Mikey..." Raph said in a warning tone.

"But didn't he say something like that once? Do you remember it?" Mikey looked at his older brother urgently. Suddenly it was very important; he had to remember.

"Mikey, I don't want to talk about this."

"Why not? We're going to go back to New York and find him as soon as Leo wakes up."

Raph flinched at Leo's name and turned to pierce Michelangelo with a green-eyed glare. "Mikey, we're going back to New York to beat the Kraang, but Master Splinter is _gone_. You were there. He's not coming back." He said the words with finality.

The other turtle's mouth opened in shock. Not so much that Raphael would say such a thing, because his brother always spoke his mind and never cared how it came out, but shock that Raphael wasn't holding on to even a shred of hope that things would turn out okay.

That had to change. "But Raph—"

Raphael cut him off with a curt hand gesture before Mikey could even get started. "No, Mikey. We're not doing this. This... this... this is like a band-aid, okay? You don't keep picking at it a little bit at a time. You yank it off all at once and get over it."

Mikey wasn't sure he agreed with that, though he definitely remembered many band-aids that his older brother had "helped" him remove over the years. "You don't know for sure. He's a master ninja. He could have put himself into a trance—"

Raph gave him a disgusted look. "He was unconscious, Mikey! Be realistic!"

"Maybe I don't want to be realistic!" Michelangelo shot back hotly. He stood up, because he needed the space to wave his arms around emphatically and get his point across. "Sensei could do things we don't even know about! He could be all right!"

Not one to be outdone, Raphael stood too, shoving his face right into his brother's. "We are ninja," he growled out. "So be serious for once in your life and act like it. This is a time to face facts and get ready for war, not a time to cling to hopeful fantasies to make yourself feel better!"

Michelangelo took a deep breath, like a gasp. This felt different from their usual arguments like what would be on tonight's pizza or how successful ice cream kitty was at breakdancing. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like it. It made his chest hurt. He took a step back.

"Fine. So I am hopeful! What's so wrong with that!?"

Raph didn't shout back an answer right away, like Mikey was expecting. He stared down at his clenched fists, visibly fighting the tide of his anger, and finally he said tightly, "Because it's the kind of wound that festers if you let it, Mikey. You gotta get over it or it'll never leave you alone, dragging you along with all these pointless 'what ifs' that show up in your head." He looked up and stared at his younger brother intently, as if he could force him to understand with the weight of his gaze alone. "Sometimes this just happens. Sometimes family just leaves, okay?"

Mikey blinked several times. His eyes suddenly stung, for some reason. "But... Raph—"

Suddenly a hand shot out and clapped over Mikey's mouth, cutting off his words. Blue eyes glared at Raph over his fingers, affronted.

Raphael pointed across the barn with his other hand, and Mikey's gaze followed. Beyond Raph's pointer finger a single bale of hay was standing by itself against the wall, the top lit up by sunlight streaming in from a crack in the wall behind it. From the dim gloom of the barn, a sinuous shadow detached itself and leaped up into the sun's spotlight.


End file.
